#hebelieves

[deciptur-a]

s3   of   ag   is   just   gonna   be   8   episodes   of     world   &   media   tryna   entice   shadow   into   a   threeway

[realitv]

hello media when will you drop those bozos and join the old gods ?

  MY, MY, MISS AMERICAN PIE! A sizzling New York summer sans air conditioning and the cool blast of the subway vent licks around her thighs; prompting a juicy, oh-so sensual sigh to pass through glossy lips: CURVY LIKE A COLA BOTTLE; just as empty. Hollow calories (un)fit for consumption and it’s a taste America craves even now. NO, DON’T TURN TV ON! JUST TURN ME ON. Let me pacify you with Betty Boop baby talk and a head of golden curls; you can find whatever meaning you’d like in this story! It’s a syrupy, sweet smile; red, red slash of a mouth wide and sticky, peeling back to show those pretty pearls ( I STAY KISSING SWEET WITH DAZZLE DENT TOOTHPASTE! ); champagne laughter filtering through a loudspeaker and it crackles with static. Remastered, re-imagined! Touched up TECHNICOLOUR, a pale hand extending to run acrylics down Shadow Moon’s jaw: HERE’S A GENTLEMAN MILLIONS COULD ADORE!   “Now whyyyyyyy would I do that, hun-ee?” She pouts; flutters those pretty little doe eyes and her false lashes stick together, a deadpan stare fixated upon his eyes and a hundred spotlights find them, a million eyes watch them. MARILYN! MARILYN! SMILE FOR THE CAMERAS, HONEY! Same old story: girl walks into THE HOLLYWOOD MACHINE, girl gets manufactured, girl gets chewed up, SPAT OUT; a not so private public life left for the delectation of audiences everywhere. “Leaving my darlings like that, I don’t know what they’d do without me! Oh, no! I just couldn’t. I think they really missed me. I know that I missed you.” STORY OF MY LIFE: I ALWAYS GET THE FUZZY END OF THE LOLLIPOP. Miss Monroe, you are contractually obligated to make us pictures. Miss Monroe, you’ve no choice in the matter. I COULD HAVE STAYED GONE, COULDN’T I HAVE? Grin sliding off of that powdered face with her drawn on beauty mark: HAVE YOU TAKEN YOUR GET HAPPY PILLS YET? There’s a dark side to stardom: a life made for and manufactured by the executives in their suits, their ties: this body never belonged to Norma Jeane; it was mine from the moment a camera saw it.   It’s too quiet; hands hanging limply at her sides, that golden head tilted in interest, in curiosity. Just where did Marilyn Monroe end? Where did Norma Jeane begin? ALL THESE FACES: WHO IS THE REAL YOU? Plasma screen eyes vast and infinite and hungry, gaping; dark and VOID. “Listen to yourself, Shadow. Can you see me stuck with those relics? Why ally myself with those who rely on the sacrifice of others instead of SELF-SACRIFICE?” Look at me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. “Oh, Shadow. The NOSTALGIA will kill them. Don’t let Wednesday take you down with it.”

[ljuuga]

“ i’m not sure which of us i’m trying to convince ”

( meme ) // ACCEPTING //  Album prompts:  Amanda Lovelace

There was a small shrug, the sound of long nails clacking against the hard surface of the table they were sitting by. The sun was bleeding in through the tall windows, the bars creating shadows that ran across Lowkey’s wrists as they laid flat against the table, as though he was bound or handcuffed once more. The air felt heavy, and it wasn’t because of the sweaty men in the corner of the cafeteria playing chess with bottle caps with carvings and sketches on them to differentiate who is the pawn and who is the king. 

“I once knew a guy who was mad in love with someone he couldn’t ever have. Not how he wanted, anyway, y’know what I’m sayin’? Was wrong and bad and it hurt more people than it had to...” Poor Echo and Ameinias, suffering under that damned love. Poor Narcissus, too, but who could really have too much sympathy with a guy who wanted to bone himself more than anyone else? That’s just askin’ for trouble.

“He sorta made people believe there wasn’t nothin’ better than that love he had for that someone, and that they were better off just not lovin’ anyone else than him anyway. Love’s a fuckin’ dangerous thing to try and convince people of, Shadow, mh-mhnm. Now, I been lucky enough to have me a wife and some ladies before that, hell I even got some hell-spawn out there somewhere causin’ all kinds-a trouble, but I never once tried to convince no-body about the love I got for ‘em. I never had the need to. Who you love and why? That’s your damn business. If you can love someone even though they’re so far out of reach you only know how to feel ‘em when you’re dreamin’ about them and huggin’ your pillow, then that’s the love you have. You don’t gotta convince me that that’s the good love. Shit, boy, I been locked up and parted from my girl so long I get horny smellin’ the rain ‘cause it reminds me of her. But I don’t go and tell you, ‘hey, Shadow, sniff that rain-puddle huh? Ain’t that just the sexiest scent you ever done smelled?’“ 

His long claws clicked on the table again, and again, in a quiet rhythm, when he took a moment to breathe. 

“If you’re askin’ me... I think you’re tryin’ to convince yourself, more than me. But what the fuck do I know about love, man... I get a boner when a storm’s comin’.” 

[godlyground]

@hebelieves   liked for a starter   /  ACCEPTING ! 

     CIGARETTE SMOKE IN THE AIR       cool and alien and stagnant in a mouth that hasn’t known  warmth  since the barest press of lips to a man she once questioned love for.     not about the nicotine  ,  three days  was all it took for the addiction to bleed from you   ——-   more a life style choice  !   (  or should she make that death ?   )   what was the point in stopping ? would dead cells live anew just in time to kill her again ?   that seemed like it’d be   JUST HER LUCK.     the alcohol didn’t burn but then again she was   ALMOST   sure that  , that had stopped long before she’d ever kicked the bucket.   fingers tighten on the tumbler before her , cold   , cruel  ,   impartial to the way prints are left behind on the polished surface.   a quirked eyebrow, a tilted mouth  ,  IMPLIED LINES  of teasing caught in the corner of pallid lips.   eyes for one man and   ONE MAN ONLY   the light at the end of her tunnel. a flick of her cigarette, ash leaving smudged streaks of ash white on the worn wood.  

it’s been so long since she’s felt anything but cold.   there is something akin to a    HEARTBEAT   thrumming under her skin.   a pressure behind her eyes and she      feels.    human.   so fucking human.   so belligerently  ,  irreverently human.   there is no higher power  ,  whatever may come  ,  whatever the old man and the bastard of a cereal mascot says.   love won’t break the curse  , and more often than not you’re caught in a hell of your own making.   IT WAS HER LIFE TO FUCK UP.    if you’re unhappy   YOU   need to be the one to change it.    why worry about losing something comfortable if you’re already miserable ?    the inside of her lip is caught between teeth.   chewed  ,  not quite spat out.  there is apprehension in her gaze.  in the way she stares into his eyes.    DIRECT    no flinching away.   laura had treated love the way people who’ve never felt it do.   she didn’t believe in true love  , she believed in being comfortable  , she believed in    EASE     she believed in   THE NEXT BEST THING.   she doesn’t believe in love. didn’t.    coming back to life did something to her  , opened her eyes or made her feel something or     ——–   something.   if it wasn’t love before     (   the thing between her and shadow, the thing that’d grown to fit the space it’d been gifted  , the one night stand that’d become a miniature lifetime.    remember, a voice says:   an overdose is a lifetime supply.     she hadn’t wanted to push him away so she didn’t  , she’d welcomed him into the empty gaps in her life and hoped that his bulk  , his warmth  , his personality would fill them  , and when they hadn’t she’d been unsurprised and still desperate.   )   it is now.    love is something that just happens to her  , in the spaces between breathing  , in the mornings after sex  , it’s either there or it’s not and you can’t force it to appear.

fingers twitch  ,  spasmodic  ,  guilt is not in her nature.   you do what you do and you don’t waste time feeling sorry for it.   nails dig into palm  ,  careful  ,  she could knock the house down with a flick.    “   it’s been a long road   PUPPY.   “   something close to a smile graces her lips  ,  eyes hold affection and what could be described as fear.   so this is loss.   “  did you miss me  ?  “

[fuckstarz]

        𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈, 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝚆𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴:       a great big fuckin waste of time.   pixels shift into existence  ,  materialize in a cascade of sharp lined color.    the cutting edge !    LED eyes trace the person in front of them  ,  it’s all about advertising   ,   color and sound all injected straight into the hind brain via camera lens eyes.    ARE YOU STORING ME IN YOUR CLOUD  ?     give up memory space for the god of social media.   their glow isn’t   sterile   ,   not the pale blue of florescence  ,  rose gold light and a summery shine.   it’s called   HIGHLIGHT   for a reason.   the echo  ,   the reverb  ,   MEDIA’S GREATEST HITS ON REPEAT !    their voice is not their own   ,   not quite   ,   echo chamber.   everybody needs someone on their side  ,  and they needed   HIM.   no cell phone  ,  no eye for TV   ,   they bounced on the tips of their toes  ,  smile  ,  manufactured sweet   ,   head tilted at the perfect 40 degree angle.    #NOFILTER  ,    “   shadow  ,  right  ?   “     KNOW YOUR DEMOGRAPHIC !     sex appeal and the all american dream hadn’t worked   ,   violence was a tired trick.   

      “    i heard about the messes you’ve been getting into.   sounds like everyone else owes you an apology.   can’t people just    talk   anymore   ?    “     a hand gets held out for a shake   ,   all the hundreds or thousands of people in the world:    EYES ON ME !    what made you so special  ?   old man in the new age   ,    do you need    urbandictionary  ?      “    social media.   not to be mixed up with ...... i love lucy  ?  or monroe.   different brand.   “    THROWBACK THURSDAY     does this ring a bell  ?   can’t flash a tit  these days   ,  user agreements.   smile still fixed in place  ,  uncracked.   “   let’s be friends  ,  okay  ?   “

SPONSORED BY:    @hebelieves

[antialibi]

AT THIS RATE,   THE TWO OF THEM COULD LIVE FOREVER.                 immortalized as concepts which belonged  neither here nor there,   intertwined by some cruel hand of fate until their threads had turned to  knots.     and now,    there was no escape.     merciful would be the metaphysical pair of cosmic scissors come to sever their life - lines     -     start anew or fray into nothingness,   it was their  choice.     but for now,   she played.   she sang and she danced,   adamantly insisting that  she was alive,   that she contained more than absence where her soul should be.     and the soul was not the same as a heart,   because hers did pound,   like a  volatile,   violent  bird whacking against the bars of its cage.     by comparison,   shadow’s touch was  more  than soft,    better  than gentle.     it was absurdly tender.     her eye - lids eased down over her sore eyes,   blanketing her world in a  void  that was disorientating to see.     so instead,   she closed what little space was between them,   her hand sliding away from the centre of his back as she hooked her arm around his mid - section.     eyes re - opened and she pressed her face gently to his chest,   better this  pseudo - blindness  than staring at the horrors that lived behind shut - eyes.

the dance was thoughtless,   a simple moment of idle movement.     she felt so  small  next to him,   and it brought neither a sense of comfort nor intimidation.    it simply was what it was.     a proper understatement for the situations they found themselves in.     circumstances were cruel but fair,   unchangeable but tolerable.     it was what it was.     the music faded away yet,   paradoxically,   she still couldn’t hear her own thoughts.     how pleasant.     her consciousness   (  and maybe her existence too  )     slipped from her just as  reality and knowing  slipped from a drowsy person who had laid down for the day.     but this wasn’t sleep she’d be sinking into ;     emptiness  waited for her,   vast and powerful,   and she would  drown  in it,   flimsy doll - form torn apart by the vicious under - currents.     charlotte only stirred when she felt him squeeze her hand.     then,   not unlike a  parasite  removed from its host,   she drew back from the embrace,   returning to their original stance and hold.     just go home.     eye - contact was easy to maintain when the tempo of dance was this slow.     and his eyes were so dark tonight.     not even the pretty  fairy - lights  that blinked about the ceiling and dance - floor could dot constellations into the depth of his gaze.     she imagined her own eyes might hold a  parallel universe  to his.     together,   they swayed for a few more bars and then she squeezed his hand even tighter.     in a fluid motion,   she pulled him close,   but not quite anything like a hug.    their clasped hands remained in the air,   an unreachable point of tether ;     but her other hand went to cradle his head as she stretched up to his ear,    a hint of a smile that  might  have been sad if it were on any other face.     ❝   what home?   ❞     she whispered,   though it sounded like a  hiss,   her voice broken from all the earlier singing.     easing away only a few inches,   she stared back at him,   the tips of their noses almost touching.     ❝   people like us don’t have homes,   shadow.    you know this.     besides,   nowhere i am is ever safe.    occupational hazard.   ❞                 /               CONT.     -      @hebelieves   . 

[herapocalyps]

i wanna lov u but u framed my bff's dickpic and put it on da nitestand

IN L O VING M EMOR Y   😭😫😔    OF   ROBBIE   ND   THAT   DIKK  👌🏻👏🏻🙏🏻    REST   IN   PEICES   BROSKI   💔💀⚰️

[hclistic]

@hebelieves. [from here]

He had come to the conclusion that, between the old and the new, Shadow would much rather socialize with the OLD GODS. They avoided clichés and were, at the very least, honest about their SHIFTY tendencies. But one thing Shadow had also concluded was that he didn’t particularly appreciate the FAMILIARITY with which all these deities seemed to INSTANTLY treat him. They always got too close or too PERSONAL too quickly. And Shadow , like any man forced to live inside a cage, valued his space. Meddling with others’ lives wasn’t really his CUP OF TEA. This man was like the gods he’d been bumping into ever since he left jail ; UNINVITEDLY CLOSE.     ––––––––    He was ready to tell this BRADLEY to back off but when he turned to face him, Shadow no longer felt annoyed. The grip on his coin had loosened and his shoulders were now relaxed like they hadn’t been in YEARS. He eyed the man from head to toe. Shadow had never heard a voice like that. Bradley, has he had heard him being called,  sounded warm and patient; the sort of patience one would expect from OLDER WISER MEN.  Shadow shrugged, now embarrassed at his initial hostile attitude.                ❛     Sounds like a waste of stone to me.     ❜    

The effect was almost instant, even if unintended — sure he could dial up the charm, and really sway people with just the movement of his lips, without words if need be and if he so chose — for that was just what he is. It wasn’t the same as from the succubi, incubi and sirens; no, they were hardly comparable. Bragi’s very voice seemed to literally be dripping honey, the kind that was a key ingredient in the Mead of Poetry.

“There are many stones, but of you there’s only one.” Different versions, sure. But just like him, there was only one of this very Shadow Moon, in this very timeline and universe. “Then again, each stone is uniquely different. Maybe, just maybe there’s a stone for everyone, you ever see it that way?” The First Poet stroked his chin as men do, and were you to view him in the True Sight, you would have seen an age-old man stroking his full grey beard — and that image would overlaid the younger, more youthful appearance he now wore. The old god gestures vaguely at nothing in particular, and there in his hand he holds a smooth rounded marble stone.

Coin tricks, Shadow? Think BIGGER. Be bigger.

“You cast a special kind of SHADOW; the kind that persists, the kind worthy of SONGS. But Kvasir’s blood, your name’s an oxymoron to what you are.” Starlit was he, crowned with a bright glow, and yet his name was so at odds with his nature, his true nature.